Saint Therese immortalised in marble at the point of ecstasy of her desire for the golden spear yet never experiencing the ecstasy of its penetration.  Dithering on the cusp of rapture, forced to endure its allure in perpetuity.  Succubus mounting your bosom in lucid dreams, whispering of that which is denied you. Remaining ever elusive, skittish and coy, indulgence renders it moot and flaccid. Succumb to the seductive addiction of desire, constrain them, bind them and lock them away. We become the voyeurs of desires, gawking at fetishes on display in the sterile antechamber of our indulgences. Never yielding to desire, keeping it intact. The greatest fall from grace is the fall from desire.